The iPod is sleeping in a million backpacks. It is easy. It is frictionless. It will win.

My mistake is shaped like a Magic Gate. It’s a Sony Net MD Walkman, the MZ-N707. It’s gorgeous—a brushed-metal sliver that fits in the palm of my hand. It’s not an iPod. The iPod is for people who gave up. The iPod is a hard drive with earphones. This? This is a machine . It has gears. It has a spinning disc inside a caddie. It has a tiny laser that reads a tiny, beautiful disc. I am not a sheep. I am a connoisseur.

A progress bar appears. It does not move for two minutes. Then it jumps to 34%. Then it stops. The music from the Mac’s speaker (a single, tiny speaker) stutters. The whole system freezes. I cannot move the mouse.

I wait.

I right-click. I select “Convert Format.” A dialog box appears. It is written in the language of a hostile bureaucracy. “Convert to ATRAC3 (132 kbps) – Standard Mode – Allow Check-Out (1)”

Then, I drag that file into the Windows window. The emulator shudders. The fans on my iMac spin up. The cursor becomes a spinning hourglass that is somehow even more anxious than the Mac’s beach ball. SonicStage detects the file. It does not like it. SonicStage wants WAV. SonicStage wants ATRAC. It wants blood.

I lean back in my chair. I put on the earbuds—the cheap, gray ones with the little rubber nubs. I close my eyes. The music is mine. I have bled for it. I have wrestled with the ghost of Uwe and the arrogance of Sony. I have converted, crashed, cursed, and converted again.